Gunsmoke Ghetto
by SilverSwan
Summary: Don't bother looking over your shoulder. You won't make it out alive anyways.


AU, Read on, and you'll see. Definitely romance, also some suspense, adventure, and angst. This one will definitely have darker undertones running through it.  
  
Sorry about taking so long to get anything out. College has been a little hectic. I'm working on second chapters to both the other fics.the problem is that I have later chapters written, and I'm stuck on the second chapter. . . but never fear! They're almost done. Thanks to my most faithful reviewer, Lynda-chan, for giving me encouragement to keep on going.  
  
For a second, I was on top of the world. I owned Trigun! Then I woke up. Damn alarm clock.  
  
Play **Guess the line!** Be the first reviewer to correctly guess the name of the song and the group/person that the title of the chapters comes from! Usually it will be a refrain or chorus, something easier to recognize than just a random line. Oh yeah. . .do I have to disclaim that? Well, I don't own them. . .naturally I can't tell you who, but credit will be given to the band in the next chapter.  
  
  
  
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Gunsmoke Ghetto  
  
  
  
Chapter 1: In the Ghetto  
  
** ** ** **  
  
"The best weapons are those least obvious." Remember this. . .it may come in handy someday. Just my personal words of wisdom.  
  
** ** ** **  
  
Welcome to Gunsmoke Ghetto, home to the deadliest, most dangerous criminals the world has ever known. Its streets and alleys are eye-deep in drugs, prostitution, and poverty.  
  
The entire area is rampant with rape, murder, hustlers, and drive-bys. Young thugs roam the narrow, ill-paved roads, littered with trash. The moon, when visible, is always covered by foggy clouds, lending a dismal, bleak light to the already-dark ghetto.  
  
Small, grubby houses with the shutters broken, and in desperate need of a paint job line the residential areas. Beer bottles clink against the curb and lie in the overgrown grass and weeds, and it is not uncommon to hear shouting matches through the thin walls of the shacks.  
  
The only thing Gunsmoke Ghetto has contributed to mankind during the course of its history is its legacy of creating mass murderers, or criminal masterminds.  
  
Certainly no place to live. No place to raise children, no place to try to get by day-to-day with an honest living. God knew, and anyone else who knew the young woman, that she had certainly tried.  
  
Amid the streets of the vilest of human societies, a boy strolled to his destinations. His tawny-colored eyes looked straight ahead, seeing all around him, yet his long blue hair prevented the world from seeing him clearly. Despite the rough neighborhood, he walked slow, unhurried and seemingly unworried.  
  
He reached a residential neighborhood, a row of sad-looking houses, and stopped at the fifth residence, peering at it expectantly.  
  
"You're early. That's good." A voice called out from the shadows.  
  
"I'm here, Master, and ready to do your bidding," the boy responded.  
  
'Master' stepped out from the shadows, where he had been leaning against his house, arms crossed. No more than a boy himself, he was tall and thin, with piercing blue eyes, and a surprising shade of ash-blonde hair, a shade that is extremely rare to find in nature.  
  
Despite his adolescent age of fourteen, his face wore a look that many grown men, secure in their high paying jobs as CEOs or the rich oil owners, would have shied from. Not one trace of sympathy or kindness glinted out of those unfathomable depths.  
  
"Come on, Legato, let's go inside," Master motioned with his hand before turning and leading Legato into his house, one that looked like all the others, overgrown lawns, a shabby and peeling paint job.  
  
Legato gave one last look behind his shoulder before following the Master in.  
  
"So we gonna pull another run tonight, Master?" The low voice asked, surprisingly deep for a fourteen-year-old kid, as he stared up at his master with his hypnotic golden eyes. None other than Legato Bluesummers, the ringleader's right hand man.  
  
"Yeah. . .when is Mine gonna get here? It's ten past ten. . .he should know better than to make me impatient." The frost-blue eyes glinted with the coldness of steel.  
  
"Master. . .please be patient. He will come. And then you can give him his just punishment," Legato placated. He continued, cautiously, as he sat down on a battered couch. "When are we meeting Zion?"  
  
"As soon as Mine gets here. Then we'll go get our stash from Zion. How many do you have needing a supply?"  
  
"Twenty three."  
  
"Good," the Master grunted his approval, with a brief nod of his head. Arms crossed, he leaned against a battered wall in the living room of his house, waiting.  
  
In the same house, feet away from where Legato and his Master waited, a woman crouched on the floor with her ear pressed against the kitchen door that lead to the living room.  
  
"Rem? Rem, what's happening?" The boy asked, upon seeing her.  
  
"Vash. . .Vash, honey be quiet, ok?" Rem whispered, reaching her arms out to hug him. He sat on the floor and let her hold him. He was fourteen years old, and perhaps too old for this, but had always liked affection. Despite the ghetto he lived in, Vash's green eyes were optimistic, full of joy and sunshine. Perhaps the one good thing in Rem's life.  
  
She hugged him a moment longer, before getting up. "Vash, stay here, ok?" Her chocolate eyes looked at his emerald ones, brooking no disobedience.  
  
"Oh. . .ok. R-Rem, I can help you, too."  
  
"No Vash, if he won't listen to me, he definitely won't listen to his younger brother."  
  
"Only by 3 minutes," Vash pouted, but went to sit at the wobbly kitchen table.  
  
Taking a deep breath to stall the nervousness budding in her knees, Rem pushed the kitchen door open. The two boys barely acknowledged her by casting quick glances from beneath their brows.  
  
"Legato, it's time for you to leave. Knives, I've told you. . .don't get into this!"  
  
"Shut up, Rem. It's the only way to make a living around here," Knives spat, his eyes hard with hatred.  
  
"Knives!! This kind of life will get you NO-where! You are only endangering Vash and I! You'll wind up dead and then who knows who will go after your brother!"  
  
"It's kill or be killed, bitch. Live or die. And your attempts at leading an honest life have us in this!" Knives shouted, gesturing to the room. Ragged carpet, crumbling ceilings, battered curtains covering chipped windows.  
  
Knives was dressed sharp, in spotless black leather boots, jeans and a wife beater, with a black leather trench coat, that served to hide his fancy carved leather holster and pistol, shined to a glare.  
  
It was obvious to anyone that despite the way Rem lived, he wasn't suffering.  
  
Trembling, Rem tried once more. "Knives, I'll call the cops. STOP IT NOW! Do you understand? I'll call the-"  
  
She never had the chance to finish, her eyes never had the chance to widen in fear, nor her feet to move before Knives crossed the small room, closing the distance between them and hit her across the cheek. Hard. She flew across the room, hitting the wall a short distance away, and remained unmoving on the floor. Blood trailed across her cheek, from a cut laid open by his rings.  
  
"Well, I think that's taken care of, for tonight," Knives said. Jerking his head, he spoke, "Let's go. We can't wait for Mine anymore."  
  
"But Master, what if he shows up?" Legato questioned.  
  
Knives' eyes narrowed, but then he roared, "VASH!"  
  
Vash immediately scrambled out of the kitchen, so quickly, one knew he was eavesdropping the whole time at the door. In fact, he had pushed the door open and watched the entire episode. It had taken more than will power not to run out to Rem, but he knew that it was better to wait until Knives left.  
  
"Vash, if Mine the E.G. Mine shows up, then tell him we went to meet Zion. Got that?" Knives questioned, crossing the distance between them with his long legs making large strides.  
  
"I got it," Vash replied softly, part in fear of his brother's ever- approaching presence.  
  
"That's fly, brother. Later." He pulled Vash into a rough hug with one hand, patting his back heartily, before pulling out his wallet, and handing Vash a fifty. "And here's some extra dough, what do ya say?"  
  
"Thanks, Knives." Vash managed a small smile, albeit a masked one.  
  
"Come on Legato, let's go."  
  
Legato rose from the couch, having witnessed everything from behind his hair, his quiet mood unchanged. He followed Knives out the door without so much as a word or glance back at the scene.  
  
"Rem!" Vash ran to the one who still lay unconscious on the dingy carpet.  
  
Such is life in Gunsmoke Ghetto.  
  
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **  
  
Less than five miles away from the Ghetto's beginning, an entirely different world existed. A world where girls giggled and chatted about their latest crushes and the new colors of nail polish, and guys were bright, with secure futures. None of them had a care in the world beyond who liked who, and what was going on in the land of the rich and famous.  
  
A world of perfect families.  
  
This world was well-lit, with nicely paved streets and sidewalks, manicured lawns, and large, well-kept houses. New, shiny convertibles were parked in nearly every driveway.  
  
Inside one of these houses, complete with a study, mini-bar, and a pool, one girl with long, thick black hair to her waist and a petite physique looked out her window. She was not like the others.  
  
Meryl Stryfe sighed and looked towards the blackness of Gunsmoke Ghetto.  
  
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **  
  
The pair walked on, still a ways from their destination. Silence reigned between them, only because they did not need to speak to communicate. Both boys had grown up in the ghetto, there was little for them to speak about, other than the task at hand, and that was already well ingrained in their minds.  
  
Things such as falling in love, the latest school gossip, or family vacations never even occurred to them. To talk of such things was to have hope, and hope was all too quickly annihilated here.  
  
The silence was broken. "Master, what do we do about Rem?" Legato asked.  
  
She'd been on his mind for quite some time, Knives reflected, and there wasn't much to do about her. Only one thing.  
  
"She goes tonight. After we get back from our run." The words were unyielding in their decision.  
  
Thus the fate of Rem Saverem, the kind young cousin who had taken the twins in when their parents died of drug overdose, was sealed. Just one more name to be added to the police reports, in the Gunsmoke Ghetto file, a file of over hundreds of criminal cases not yet solved, and never to be solved.  
  
The moon cast a faint glow on the ghetto, masked by clouds.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Should it continue? Review, let me know. SilverSwan 


End file.
